Page 89 of To Vanquish Darkness

Amalie had vivid memories of their mother. Of the way wisps of her hair escaped and brushed over her face as she worked in the garden. The way she chewed on her lower lip when she was studying one of her books.

“This was hers.” Amalie held the necklace out, allowing Bethany to inspect it.

“It was in the box?”

Amalie nodded.

Bethany held it up, turning it this way and that. “Does it open?”

Amalie shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“Please don’t take to it the way you did with that.” Bethany pointed at the remains of the box.

Amalie snorted. She scooped the other items from the nightstand and placed them in her lap.

“Were these hers, too?”

“This was.” Amalie handed her the notebook.

“Have you read it?” Bethany asked. Amalie shook her head, and she handed it back to her. “I won’t look before you do.” She picked up the vial and inspected it.

“I thought it could be for perfume, but there isn’t any lingering smell.”

Bethany pulled out the stopper and held her nose close to the opening. She nodded in agreement. “Did she wear perfume?”

Amalie considered this. “I think so. But I’m not quite sure. She smelled fresh, like sweet pea blossoms.”

Bethany handed back the vial. “I wish I remembered more.”

Amalie’s throat tightened. "Me too." She had the sudden urge to tell Bethany everything. To assure her their mother wasn’t gone, not really. That she would be reborn, and so would they. But the complexity of it overwhelmed her.

Who were they to each other if they were new in every life? How often did they find themselves living again, and where did their spirits go in the interim? She didn’t know if they’d ever see their mother again, and that tinged the entire story black at the edges.

“Your clothes are strange,” Bethany said, and Amalie laughed. She’d forgotten she was still dressed in Olivie’s pants and shirt.

Amalie stood and crossed to the armoire. She unlatched the belt and pulled off the trousers, exhaling at the sudden freedom around her middle.

“Where have you been?” Bethany’s voice was timid, and Amalie hated that she’d given her sister a reason to be hesitant around her.

“I was traveling north. In Normandy.”

“Were you with them?”

Amalie pulled on a clean pair of slacks. She glanced at Bethany who fiddled with a loose fingernail, not meeting her eyes.

Bethany knew of her work with the Pourfendeurs. No doubt it was a regular topic of dinner conversation. How she was a terrible example and Bethany should never follow in her sister’s footsteps.

“No. Not this time.” Amalie set Olivie’s shirt on the desk and pulled on a clean tunic. A soft knock came at the door, and Amalie jumped a second time.

“It’s Aunt Maurielle. May I come in?”

“Yes.” Amalie crossed the room and set the items from the box next to her right hip on the bed, obscuring them from view.

Maurielle opened the door and leaned into the bedroom. She gave Amalie a small smile. “Would you like to come down for supper?" She turned to Bethany. "Since you and the girls have already eaten, I was hoping you might be willing to put your cousins down for bed.”

Bethany seemed to read something in Maurielle’s expression. “Of course.” She squeezed Amalie’s hand and walked to the door, then turned back. “I still want that explanation.”

Amalie huffed a laugh. “In the morning?”

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